


Shedding

by Firegirl210



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Gen, Namecalling Manchildren, Pranks, Shenanigans, Sparks is a wuss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firegirl210/pseuds/Firegirl210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks gets to see Croach undergo the beautiful process of Molting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shedding

Scritch-scritch. Scritch-scratch. Scritch-scratch-scritchity-scritch-scratch.

“Croach, if you don’t stop scratching at your doggon skin I’m gonna lose my mind!”

The Martian turned large, startled eyes on the Marshal behind the desk. He was caught red-handed, however, with one large hand curled against his blue--but, Sparks Nevada noticed, slightly paler than usual--shoulder.

“Is my physical stimulation of my dermal irritation causing you annoyance Sparks Nevada?”

“If’n you’re referring to the godawfully loud scraping sound that’s happenin’ on account o’ yer scratching, then yes.”

“I cannot cease the physical stimulation entirely, but I will attempt to refrain from engaging in it in your presence.” He rubbed at the spot again, then forced his hand back down with visible effort. Sparks shook his head, returning to his paperwork.

“What’s got you all antsy anyway?”

Croach shrugged his shoulders, not so subtly rubbing them against the wall he was seating against. His large black eyes seemed slightly blue, and had a strange milky quality to them.

“It is nearly time for me to shed my exoskeleton,” he said as way of explanation, and Sparks grimaced and shuddered.

“Ohh-- man, gross. How often do you have to do that?”

“Roughly once every ten cycles.”

“And do you shed…all of it?”

“My entire outer exoskeleton. Yes.”

“Ohhhgodsogross.”

“It is not gross.”

“So **so** gross.”

“It is glorious.”

“Not even a little bit glorious. 1000% gross.”

“It is a natural process, one of rebirth and beauty.”

“One of nastiness and gross..ity.”

“Incorrect.”

“Stop--stop scratching it! Jeez, Croach, yer gettin’ flakes all over the station. You know what, just-- just go outside until it’s over.”

“It should not be long until the process is complete. You are certain you do not wish to observe?”

“I’m gonna go with no.”

“Are you certain Sparks Nevada?”

“Yeah, Croach, just go! Jeez!”

The towering insectoid bustled out of the station, and Sparks shivered over dramatically and got back to his paperwork.

\--

The orange sun slanted across Nevada’s hands as he pushed aside the last form, sighing with satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. Another day spent productively with no outlaw interruptions, no shoot-outs, no unpleasant surprises, no emotionally confusing drop-ins from Red, no screaming Felton.

He slid back from his desk, standing and cracking his back. Croach had been gone a long time--he wondered if the Martian had finally finished shedding his nasty-ass exoskeleton or whatever. He stepped outside the Marshal station with the intent of going to the bar, when the ground made a crunch sound instead of a clunk sound and he froze. Sparks looked down and felt a horrified, disgusted, painful shudder run up his spine.

“CROACH!!!” He stumbled back, kicking and flailing his legs, but the white mass trailed after him like some kind of extremely gross ghost, snagged on his spurs. He fell against the Marshal station, dragging his boot across the ground. The blue form of his companion came flying around the corner, careening into him and sending them both sprawling atop the flaky, hardening remains of Croach’s exoskeleton.

“What ails you Sparks Nevada?” Croach bellowed in Nevada’s ear, and the Marshal struggled to untangle himself from the Martian’s brilliantly blue limbs.

“Ohmygodsogross Croach get it OFFA ME,” Sparks begged, crawling away from the remains of the Martian’s molting. Croach freed the sloughed exoskeleton from the Marshal’s spurs, and Sparks staggered to his feet, breathing hard, red in the face.

“Did anyone see that?” he asked after a minute to compose himself, and Croach looked around.

“There do not appear to be any human denizens of G’Loot Praktaw present to witness your childish panic.”

“Child--how about you shut up.”

“Your adolescent screams of terror were amusing to six of my senses, Sparks Nevada.”

“You are under so much onus to me for this. I hope yer little laugh was worth it.”

“Most definitely worth it.”


End file.
